26. Wren
WREN
By noon on Saturday, I’ve somehow managed to make my already questionable room into a true disaster zone.
Clothes are everywhere, and I don’t think there is a single pair of shoes left in my closet, and I’ve had to restart my hair twice.
Do I take an extra outfit? Are we going anywhere that I’d need to look nice?
No idea, and I’m running completely out of time. I pin my second little space bun into place and pray it stays this time.
With one final glance in the mirror, I throw a quick coat of mascara on and call it good enough. Grabbing my bag, I throw my phone inside and head downstairs.
Mom is standing at the kitchen sink, washing what looks to be potatoes for tonight’s dinner. She looks over as I walk in.
“Hey, honey.” She does a double-take. “You look cute tonight.”
I grab an apple and hoist myself onto the counter. “Why thank you. I have a date tonight after the game.”
Her eyebrows shoot straight up. “Oh? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
I should be offended by how shocked she seems, but I can’t blame her for her surprise. Boys, well, all but one, have been the farthest thing from my mind for years.
I give her a shrug, trying to play it off as nothing. “It’s newer.”
She goes back to washing her potatoes. “What’s his name? Does he go to your college?”
Taking an extra-large bite of apple, I give myself time to come up with an answer as I chew, knowing this conversation can go one of two ways. The old Caity Calloway would be forgiving, excited even, that Kai and I are giving things another chance. New version? Unsure.
Hopping off the counter so that I’m prepared for a speedy exit, I answer her carefully. “Actually, it’s Kai, Mom.”
She stops washing the potato. Her eyes are even more shocked at those words. “Oh.”
I give her a look, biting the inside of my cheek. “That’s all?”
“Honey, you’re an adult. Both of you are.
” She dries her hands on a kitchen towel before coming to stand in front of me.
“If you want to give things with him another shot, then do it. He’s a wonderful boy, and I know you two were inseparable.
I never figured out what happened, but I didn’t feel it was my place to pry. ”
“That’s the thing,” I say, shaking my head.
“Nothing really happened. We just drifted apart. Obviously, being back in the same place as him has made things a little weird, at least at first, but it’s like I’m pulled to him.
Maybe it’s just because in the past he’s brought me comfort, something familiar, but I really think it might be more than that, and I think we owe it to ourselves to figure that out. ”
She gives me a soft smile. “And that, my dear Wrenley Mae, is exactly why I’m not worried. I don’t want you to get hurt, either of you, but you have a great head on your shoulders and always choose the right path.” She kisses my cheek. “Now, you better get going, or you’ll be late.”
At the rink, I try to put the date out of my head and fail almost immediately.
Game days are usually easy to disappear into.
There are towels to stack, tape rolls to refill, water bottles to line up, spare laces and jerseys, and all the small moving pieces that make a team look seamless from the outside.
Donnelly barks orders; Weston is extra loud.
Grayson and Asher are here and focused, the calm before the storm.
Then Kai walks in, and my whole body forgets how to act normal.
He’s in his game-day suit, looking absolutely sinful, so much so that my mouth goes dry.
Dark jacket, white shirt, tie neat at his throat. Game-day Kai has always been a problem, but this version feels personally designed to ruin me. He looks composed, serious, locked in for the game, and still, his eyes find mine the second he steps into the room.
“Calloway,” Weston says, sliding into my peripheral vision. “If I score tonight, I’m dedicating it to you.”
I snort. I swear he’s making it a point to rile up Kai. “Yeah, that’s a no.”
Grayson pipes in. “What if you dedicate it to personal growth?
Asher passes behind him. “He’d have to experience some first.”
Weston presses a hand to his chest. “Goalies are cruel because their cages trap emotion.”
Asher doesn’t slow down. “Nah, you’re just annoying.”
Kai stops near the shelf beside me while everyone else is distracted. He doesn’t touch me, not really. His hand reaches for a roll of tape he does not need, and his knuckles brush mine for half a second.
It is embarrassing how quickly my body reacts.
His mouth barely moves. “You good?”
I glance up. “You ask that a lot.”
“I like knowing.”
I could make a joke. I almost do. But he’s looking at me like he wants the real answer, and tonight, I’m too tired of dodging things that feel good.
“I’m happy nervous?” I admit, realizing that doesn’t make the most sense but hoping he understands anyway.
Kai’s face changes, a real smile taking over, reaching clear to his eyes. It makes me want to kiss him…badly. But I can’t do that here.
“Me too,” he says, giving my hand a soft squeeze as he heads toward his stall.
I don’t know why that settles me, but it does. Maybe because Kai Mercer doesn’t look nervous before games. He looks locked in, sharpened, terrifyingly competent. Knowing some part of him is under there feeling the same bright, restless pull makes me feel a bit less ridiculous.
The game helps burn off the rest of the anxious energy, or maybe it just gives me somewhere else to focus it for the time being.
PCU scores first, Grayson tipping the puck in front of the net, but the other team answers before the end of the period.
And by the third, with the score being tied at 2–2, the game has turned tight and physical enough that Donnelly mutters under his breath every time someone goes into the boards.
Kai is everywhere.
That has always been the thing about watching him play. He doesn’t just skate. He directs, reads, adjusts. He sees the ice like it’s already unfolding before everyone else gets there. I used to watch him in high school and think, He’s going to leave all of this behind one day.
Back then, I thought that meant me too.
Tonight, when he wins a faceoff cleanly and sends the puck to Grayson, I let myself take in the moment. The sound of the crowd, the cool bite of air, my hands tucked into my sleeves.
With two minutes left and the score tied, Weston draws a penalty. He looks entirely too proud of himself as he skates to the bench, and I can tell Asher yells something from the net by the way Weston turns around and blows him a kiss.
PCU sets up on the power play.
The puck moves fast. Point to wing, back down low. Kai circles once, taps his stick, takes the pass, and releases the shot before the goalie can square up.
The lamp lights.
The student section loses its mind.
So do I.
Kai gets swallowed by his teammates, Weston practically climbing him while Grayson laughs and drags them both toward the bench. Through the glass, through the noise, Kai looks over at me and smiles. A real smile that I can feel all the way to my toes.
I can’t help but smile back.
PCU wins 3–2, and the locker room afterward is pure chaos. Weston is even louder than normal as I make quick work of everything I need to do.
Kai is busy with Coach and the guys, but every few minutes, I feel his attention cut through the noise and find me.
By the time Donnelly catches me checking the clock, I’m wound so tight I almost drop the laundry bag.
All the players have cleared out, and I’m putting the last load of laundry into the washer for the night. Everything else is back in its place, restocked and ready for the next practice.
“I can handle swapping this if you want to head out,” he says, taking a seat on the bench close to the laundry cart.
I shake my head. “I’m not quite done yet.”
He chuckles. “I said I can handle it, Calloway. Go enjoy your night.”
Normally, I’d argue that I needed every last minute I could get, but tonight is different. I have someone very important waiting for me to finish up.
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing my stuff and heading toward the bathrooms.
I send Kai a text letting him know I’ll be done in five.
Trying to fix your hair under fluorescent lights is impossible, and I just hope it looks a little less crazy without the extra lights.
I made the right call on the black jeans; they worked for the game and definitely work for a date, too.
I pair them with a fitted aqua blue sweater, redo my lip gloss, and stop looking in the mirror before I find something new to worry about.
Kai is waiting by his truck when I step outside.
Holding flowers.
I stop walking.
They’re wrapped in brown paper, blue and white with tiny yellow ones tucked between them. Butterflies erupt in my chest, and I can’t help but smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear as I make my way toward him.
Kai looks almost nervous holding them, which is adorable. He just scored the game-winning goal. He took a hit in the second period and got up like it was nothing, yet standing there with flowers in his hand, he looks like my reaction matters more than all of that.
“You got me flowers,” I say.
“Yeah.” His thumb rubs once along the paper. “Too much?”
“No.” I take them carefully. “I love them. Thank you.”
His shoulders ease slightly, and something warm moves through me.
We make our way around his car, and he opens the door for me. I slide inside, and we head out of the parking lot.
He chooses to have dinner at a small Italian place fifteen minutes from campus.
It’s quiet enough that we can talk and casual enough to be comfortable.
We sit in a booth near the back. Kai sits across from me in a gray button-up shirt and his pants from his suit earlier, tie and suit jacket long forgotten.
I’m admiring the cut of his jaw when I catch his grin, realizing his mouth is moving. I blink. “Huh?”
He does his best at hiding his smile, but fails miserably. “She asked if you want something to drink.”
My cheeks heat. “Oh, uh, I’ll just take a water, please.”
“Same for me, thank you.”
The waitress nods and heads toward the kitchen.
Kai looks at me, his grin far too cocky. “See something you like, Freckles?”
“Oh, please,” I say, rolling my eyes as my cheeks heat even more. “You’re not that good-looking.”
He chuckles then. “I was talking about the menu, but glad to know you think I’m good-looking and all that.” He ends it with a wink, and it’s all I can do not to melt completely into my seat.
I turn my eyes to my menu, though I already know what I’ll order, same as I know what he will probably get, too. “Do you know what you’re getting?”
“I’m going to get the fettuccine alfredo,” he says, placing his menu down on the table. “With some grilled chicken.”
I tilt my head, acting surprised to hear that he’s ordering exactly what I knew he would. “Only thing missing is your broccoli.”
Kai grins. “And let me guess, you’ll be getting the traditional spaghetti and meatballs and asking for mozzarella cheese on top.”
I laugh quietly, shaking my head.
Some things really don’t change, no matter how much time passes.